


Then We Found Us

by CindyBarnard



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Ron Weasley, Bad Weasley Family (Harry Potter), Character Death, Dark Draco Malfoy, Dark Hermione Granger, F/M, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Post-Hogwarts, Ron Weasley Bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22267093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CindyBarnard/pseuds/CindyBarnard
Summary: Prompt: Adam and Lilith - DarkFestival: TheMourningMadam's Where Gods DwellHermione had a life plan, and it was going exactly according to schedule, thank you very much. If only her husband hadn't decided he did not like her plan. . . Which led to her finding out exactly what her husband had done... Maybe she would never have known his secret then, living in blissful ignorance. But he did have an issue and therefore she did find out. And now? Well, Hermione never did want to be the supporting character, did she? And if they did not want to change, then she would fix the problem. So she had to do what she had to do. Besides, the devil is not always wrong you know.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 12
Kudos: 93
Collections: Where Gods Dwell: A Dramione Fest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My submission for the festival. This is a planned three-part story, although only the first part is going up in time for the submission date.  
> Warning:  
> This will be rather dark - with a dark Hermione and Draco, because - well, I like them darkish. Also, some Weasley bashing, not a Weasley fan but also not a hater and I usually do not do Weasley bashing explicitly, but for this story, it fits the bill - so if it is not your cup of tea this might not be for you. 
> 
> And then, most importantly: Lots and lots of beta love to PotionChemist! She is awesome!

****

**Part One**

It was raining where she stood on the balcony overlooking the black clouds as it poured to the already soaking wet earth. The rain reminded her of _that_ day years back. 

She probably should have known who she likened to be on the day she married Ronald Weasley. But like everything in life, hindsight is the best reveal to the oblivious. It had been raining that day, unexpectedly as it had been forecast to be a hot and dry summer week. And yet, an hour before the outside ceremony was set to start, clouds had appeared and darkened, the heavens opening up to drench the entire ceremony in curtains of heavy rain. Magic managed to protect the guest and ceremony area, of course.

But Hermione remembered feeling heavy that day, like she was going to a funeral instead of her wedding. _Jitters_ , everyone called it, so she stood and let the Minister bond them in the magical handfasting ceremony. 

Looking back, she knew that was the day her soul had tried to warn her — warn her that she was not who she was supposed to be. Hermione Granger was supposed to be the sidekick, the supporting character. Years later, she realised she had been moulded for that role by Dumbledore himself. First for Harry in his quest to vanquish Voldemort and then as wife to Ron. 

Yet she wanted to be the lead, the main character in her own story. 

The torrential rain stopped as instantly as it had begun when the bonding ceremony was completed; the deed was done, and she was bound legally and magically to her expected husband. Fleetingly, she thought of the old tale where the skies had mourned the wedding of the Jackal to the wolf’s bride due to a trick. 

Yes, she had been Ronald’s first wife, and today she knew she was likened to Lilith of the old Hebrew story, of Adam’s first wife. And she didn't mind that at all… Lilith was the mother of the feminist, of women who could be equal to men, powerful and the lead of their own story. 

But, as with all things, she also learned that power corrupted. And she had been the perfect victim — no, the perfect candidate. She hated the word victim, it made her feel like she was weak with no choice. Gullible. She had the choice and she chose power, and that made her strong. She made the rules.

The rain didn't let up as her thoughts journeyed to the past. Strong arms circled her waist from behind and she rested her head back against the chest that was warming her. His whisper tickled her earlobe. ”Where is your mind, love?” 

Hermione smiled content as she answered him, never taking her eyes from the rain. ”On _that_ day… it rained like this. I know now it was the skies mourning my marriage to my husband…”

She felt rather than heard the soft chuckle her words brought. “The gods themselves mourned that marriage. Soon, soon you’ll be free from the shackles of that bond. And then no one will stand in our way anymore.” 

His deadly spoken words took her back to when she realised her life was truly not what it was supposed to be. 

* * *

Ron wanted her to be a _better_ wife, one who didn't work, or at least worked less. It was their most recurring fight. Hermione had realised that her marriage was teetering on an edge and it would tip one way or the other at this point. They had been married for five years… And she was thirty. No children, but her plan had children appearing at thirty-five. She was Head of Department for Magical Creatures and in the process of transferring to the Department of Magical Law to be Deputy's Head, well on her way to becoming the youngest Minister for Magic, exactly on time with her plan. But Ronald didn't want to wait anymore and he didn't want her to be Minister, even though he had known and agreed to the plan before their marriage. He later confessed that he had only agreed because he thought he would be able to change her mind once married… 

But still, she was holding out, hoping that they could reach a compromise. 

But the day their best friend, Harry Potter, came to her and made her feel like a failure for not wanting children and for putting her career before her marriage, everything went tits up. She realised that Ron went to Harry to recruit him to his side. And Harry had done exactly what he had promised to never do again years prior — he had taken a side instead of staying neutral. She guessed he didn't see it that way; all Harry had ever wanted was a family of his own, and he probably thought that was what everyone wanted. But Hermione wanted power to affect change, and a family was going to be a distraction from that at this point in time. 

Right after Harry’s visit, Hermione and Ron had their worst row ever. That same day, Hermione went to the Magical Liaisons and Contracts Department to start the process of dissolving her marriage. He had done the unforgivable by going to Harry and causing what she already knew would be an irreparable rift between them. Not to mention the chasm that was officially now between her and Ron. She knew she could not stay with Ron anymore — all their trust was completely broken down, and she suspected that the deep friendship between herself and Harry had also been damaged permanently. 

However, that day dealt her another blow — apparently her marriage to Ron was irreversible. 

The entire Weasley clan had permanently bound her to their youngest son. Knowingly. Hermione had trusted Molly when she had assured her that there was nothing _untoward_ with their chosen magical bonding, and she had trusted her, so she didn't do her usual diligent research prior. 

After all, why would Molly lie or mislead her? 

The official had shaken his head sadly upon delivering the news, regretfully informing her that those specific types of bondings were rarely used these days, usually only in arranged marriages between old pureblood families. That was when she knew she had been misled on purpose. 

A deep anger had burned inside of her that day. A rage she had never felt before. A rage directed at Ron and his mother. She knew that something dormant inside of her had awakened then, and it made her recall the time in fourth year when Molly Weasley had snubbed her because she had believed Rita Skeeter's lies… Maybe Molly had always been a threat and would stoop to the lowest of low for her precious little babies… regardless of whether they were in the wrong or not. 

The only way to dissolve their bond was through death.

Hermione had taken the rest of her day off and then proceeded to Azkaban to pay _him_ a visit.

* * *

The dark and dank hallways of the island prison never prepared her for the sight of the prisoners, and she always shivered as she walked to his cell. The Dementors were kept at bay during visiting hours, but she swore the misery they brought seeped into the stone itself, for it was present even when they weren’t. Finally, she got to his cell and waited quietly as the guard unlocked it and stood to the side so she could enter. Ignoring protocol, he didn't try to enter with her to stand watch; he’d lost that battle with her long ago. Instead, he closed the heavy wooden door behind her and waited outside for her knock. 

Hermione frowned at the emaciated figure crouching on his bunk, pressed into the corner against the cold stone. 

”Malfoy… It’s just me.”

Her voice rang out softly through the cell. The striped rags that served as prison garb moved as the dirty and broken wizard shifted in order to glare at her, the steel grey eyes shining brightly from the dirty pallid skin of his face. His chin was more pointed than ever and his cheekbones were sharper than she’d previously thought. Permanent hunger had a way of showing the ugly side of a person’s bone structure. They were fed only enough to sustain life. It had been one of the changes she had hoped to effect once she was Minister — the conditions in Azkaban. Now, with the burning anger of extreme betrayal inside of her, she just wanted revenge and to be severed from the Weasleys. 

”Why do you still come, Granger…” his voice rasped due to malnutrition and disuse, but there was still life left in him.

Hermione shrugged and walked forward to sit next to him on the thin, hard bunk that served as his bed. ”You know why. But I confess, today I am here for selfish reasons.”

Draco Malfoy was but a shadow of what he used to be. Imprisoned for his war crimes - unfairly, according to her. He had been but a child in impossible circumstances on the other side of the war. But her words had meant nothing to the Wizengamot. They just chucked him in there and all but threw away the keys. It was something else she had wanted to change. Retrials for all the underage prisoners, at the very least. But she had long since started to realise it might be a losing battle. Kingsley had been fighting for the same thing for years without success. Did she really believe she could make the changes that Kingsley had fought for and failed?

Maybe the wizarding world didn't need a new Minister, but rather a whole new hierarchy. It wasn’t the first time her thoughts went down this dark route; in fact, it had been on this route more often in the last few years with every failure that Kingsley had faced. 

Maybe it was time to actually start acting on the thoughts. 

”Do you personally think I can change everything when I am Minister?” her voice was almost dead in tone. But she had to ask — everyone had been telling her for years that her dreams of change would never come to be. But she had optimistically, innocently, believed that as Minister, she could change everything. She’d clung to those thoughts when she started to have a darker mind in recent years. But the developments with her husband and his mother, along with Harry, made her realise how set in their ways the wizarding folk were. 

”No. They want people to blame for their own mistakes and sweep them under the rug. You will just be a figurehead, like all Ministers before you.” Hermione turned her head sideways to look at him, it was the longest sentence he had spoken to her in the ten years since his permanent incarceration in Azkaban and her twice-yearly visits to him. 

”Do you want to know a secret, Malfoy?”

His silence was all answer she got. ”Ron and his mother had me marry him in an irreversible bonding ceremony. And I only found out today.” 

He gave a quiet bark of laughter, dry and without humour. ”And you didn't research the ceremony beforehand? That’s on you, Granger.”

”I know it is on me, I was stupid… but I trusted the Weasleys. Molly assured me it was nothing uncommon or untoward, and I trusted in the Weasley reputation of love and choice.”

”Never trust anyone, Granger. Especially not a Weasley — or a Prewett in this regard. Lots of history between our families. Nothing is ever as black and white as they make it seem.”

Hermione felt the vibrations beneath her as Malfoy shifted to uncurl from where he had sat drawn up in the corner. His movements were slow and sluggish, his breathing short and gasping. He really is very frail, she thought. Finally, he was next to her on the edge, his feet now resting on the floor with her own. 

”What history? Seemed pretty cut and dry… the Malfoys and ilk considered them blood traitors, Prewetts as well to a certain extent,” Hermione asked.

Her eyes met his and she noticed his mouth pulling up in the slightest of a grim smile. ”Blood Traitor is merely a glossed over term for something a lot deeper than mere tolerance for Muggles and Muggle-borns. And not a story for today.”

Hermione searched his eyes in silence and shadows for a minute before sighing and turning her head to face back forward, looking at the dirty stone wall. Foraging in her pocket, she removed the chocolate frogs she’d brought for him and handed them over. The quiet was only broken by the wrapping as he tore one open to indulge. She always brought him something sweet and they never discussed it. 

”I don't feel quite right, Malfoy. I want to hurt him. I want to hurt them. It feels dark and suffocating.” Her voice was a mere whisper.

”So he fucked up enough finally to warrant you wanting to divorce… Wondered when that would happen.” His voice had traces of his old sneer in it but it didn't bother her.

Malfoy was who he was.

”He must die for me to be free.”

Silence met her ears as Malfoy stared forward as well. It was a long time before he spoke. ”Obviously. It’s what an unbreakable bond means. My parents were married the same way, by mutual choice. And it wouldn't be the first time a Weasley used that bond to tie a witch to them under misleading pretenses.” 

”What can I do?”

”You ask me? Why? You only come here because I'm the ’one that you couldn't save’... Not for advice. Never for advice.”

”Because, like I said, I don't feel as I should. And you are the only person I know that feels the same dark thoughts.” Her hands gripped the edge of the bunk as she clenched her jaw. 

”You have always felt it, Granger. You just never acknowledged it. Remember what you did with Umbridge? Edgecombe? And I am sure there are other such events as well.”

Hermione realised the truth of his words. And he was right, there were various instances throughout her life. Maybe she had never been the pure and righteous person she thought she had been. Maybe she had always justified her dark actions as for the greater good when it was actually simply for her own twisted pleasure and revenge. Maybe that was the real reason she always came to Malfoy… Someone like her. Someone selfish. Someone who wanted things their own way. She never compromised with Ron, it was her plan alone and he had to fall in line with it. She never had any intention of compromising. Not really. 

Malfoy was the same… Maybe it had something to do with being only children. Who knew?

All she knew was that she was bound to someone she couldn't live with, let alone even look at anymore. 

Death.

That was the only answer. But it seemed unobtainable… She would be the first suspect due to the type of marriage bond they had and an official now knew she wanted a divorce. But then again, it went deeper than that, as well. No one cared that she was hoodwinked into an unbreakable marriage to a misogynist, so she knew no-one would care and assist when she was Minister. They didn't really want change, not even for the better.

Maybe Voldemort had been onto something. 

His reasoning was skewed but his ultimate goal was on point. The entire Ministry and its hierarchy needed to be replaced. And since the wizarding world didn't want to embrace change, it had to be forced. 

”Malfoy...do you still hold to your wishes of redemption and peace?”

Her question didn’t seem to surprise him; he didn't move at all. Turning her head to look at him again, she saw he did the same. His eyes seemed empty then, almost soulless. 

His voice was raspy and barely above a whisper when he finally responded. ”Granger… Would you be all love and light after ten years in this place? Not even counting the two years prior while awaiting my trial.”

Hermione didn't have a response. Instead she let his words wash over her, let it settle deep into her soul as she also dropped her walls to let the desolation of Azkaban seep into her completely.

She let the cold and damp absorb into her bones and the shadowy darkness elongate to hide away every corner of the cell. She opened her mind to let the sadness and misery hook into her as if the Dementors were right there in the cell with her. Sucking out every happy thought, every content memory… The total overwhelming darkness of her feelings crashed over her like a tsunami and stroked the slumbering blackness in her soul enticingly. She now knew that Malfoy was right; the darkness has always been there. Waiting.

Maybe it was time to embrace herself completely.

She would never be free in this world. She knew that. So it was time to make a new world — by any means possible. 

”No. I don't believe you can. And apparently, neither am I… And I don't even have twelve years in Azkaban as an excuse.” 

His eyes stared hard into her own as he responded in his raspy voice. ”I do know that you can be more, Granger… So much more.”

* * *

Hermione sat in their living room that night, waiting for her _husband_ to come home. She might not be able to divorce him… But nothing in the bond specified they had to live together or even be together physically. It didn't even force fidelity. It merely stopped impregnation of non-spousal partners and legal divorce. She had spent the rest of her day researching their specific bond. 

When he finally came through the floo and saw her surrounded by boxes and suitcases, he halted in surprise and she merely raised an eyebrow. 

”What’s this, Mione?” His voice was inquisitive but not alarmed. She knew it was because he was under the belief that she couldn't go anywhere… Ever. 

Hermione crossed her legs where she sat and spoke mockingly in her response. Since that afternoon, it felt like an invisible elastic band that had always kept her tightly contained had snapped. She found herself not caring about his feelings anymore. She found herself not caring for anyone's feelings, truth to be told. Her family was dead. And the Weasleys had all known exactly the type of bond Ron had chosen and her ignorance of its implications. No one had even bothered to inform her. In fact, the ones she did deign to ask had actively misled her to its nature, so all the Weasley’s were equally guilty in her eyes. Just as guilty as she was in trusting them. No more.

That left Harry in her life.

Harry who had once again chosen Ron. No. She was alone. She and herself. That was all that she had.

”Well, Ronald, I am moving out. I would think that is obvious.”

Ron shrugged out of his robes, still seemingly without care. ”But you can't Mione, we're married. Bonded.”

Hermione threw her head back and laughed. 

”Oh, I _know_. So tell me, Ron, did you and your mother willfully plot on the exact type of bond ceremony we got? Or was it more of an unspoken agreement on how to keep me in the dark? You know, abuse my ignorance on ancient and obscure magical rituals?”

Her words had the desired effect as she saw the man pale, his freckles had stood out in stark contrast. 

”Mione… it was for us-- ”

”Don’t. Don't insult my intelligence with some forever love and us bullshit. Was it on purpose? Yes or no.”

”Yes. But only because I never wanted to lose you… We were expected to be married forever, part of the Golden Trio…”

His words rang out in their flat, leaving her blinking with incomprehension at his reasoning. It was ridiculous. She was at a loss for words at the sheer childishness of his thinking. So she really was the trophy wife — the Weasleys’ claim to fame along with trophy husband Harry Potter. Oh, she knew Harry and Ginny truly adored each other… But at this point in time, she felt that it was sheer dumb luck that they did. 

”You are a liar and deceiver Ronald Billius Weasley. And your bonding doesn't specify we need to live together, so I am moving out. And mark my words, I will be free of this _curse_. And you and everyone involved will be held accountable.”

With that, she stood up and with a few quick waves of her wand, she had all her boxes and suitcases shrunk and in her handbag before Apparating away with a loud and angry crack. The last thing she saw was the dumbfounded expression on her husband’s face as she disappeared from their home. 

Hermione resigned from the Ministry the next day and then seemingly disappeared from the face of the earth, leaving only whispers and mysteries behind. 

* * *

Two years after Hermione’s mysterious departure from wizarding Britain, the first Azkaban breakout in over a decade happened. Only one prisoner was marked as gone. 

Draco Malfoy. 

The guards insisted that it was impossible, that after the breakouts from the war years all possible weaknesses had been addressed and improved. Yet everyone was left scratching their heads as to how he got out. And even more importantly, how he disappeared without a trace from there. Not a sighting or tipoff had been reported. It was as if he had just gone or simply never existed. 

The Weasleys and Harry Potter were still searching for Hermione, to bring her back to where they thought she belonged — at the side of her husband, playing the role of the perfect wife. In their haste to deceive her, they never realised that their bond could adversely affect Ron as well… For he couldn't remarry and sire children without her. 

Harry didn't know the exact truth of Ron and Hermione’s marriage bond since everyone shrugged it off. Therefore, he believed that Ron’s ongoing ’single’ status was because of his love for Hermione. It was what drove him to use his status and position to find his lost friend more than anyone else. He truly believed in their love, and his loyalty to Ron was irreplaceable.

It wasn't long after the Azkaban break out, maybe two or three years, before whispers started reaching England of a new Dark witch and wizard that had surfaced in the rest of Europe. A couple that would come at night and steal babies only to return them without a scratch three days later. 

Harry didn't think much of it as nothing conclusive could be confirmed by other Ministries and therefore shrugged it off. Besides, no dark wizards would dare infiltrate England — they all knew who Harry Potter was and stayed away out of deference, so he spent his time searching for Hermione and dismissed the pesky rumours as scary stories told to misbehaving children


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter is un-beta'd - Mistakes are my own.
> 
> Also, this is a year late... but rather late than never hehehe  
> Don't worry the final chapter has already been written.

#  Part 2

  
  


It was with Viktor and his family that Hermione stayed with those first two years after her sudden departure. They knew each other well enough due to the long ongoing friendship between Viktor and herself. So it had been no issue asking for help and being offered. Naturally, they were just as angry finding out of her lot as she was and proceeded to firmly take her under their wing. 

Hermione approached father Valko Krum within weeks of her arrival regarding education in the Dark Arts, knowing it was not such a taboo concept to them due to their Durmstrang education. He did not seem surprised with her request that late-night she had approached him in his study. She had chosen him as she did not want to involve Viktor for the sake of his own wife and young son, besides his father was a lot more involved with politics and academia than Viktor. 

He had looked at her in silence from across his study desk for what seemed like a very long time when her request had tumbled out. His dark eyes probing her without blinking from over his golden round-rimmed glasses. Finally, he slowly put his quill down and folded his hands on top of the table while straightening up. His eyes still never left her own.

“And you are sure this is the path you want to go down, Hermione?” His voice was steady and firm, yet persistent.

With a firm nod, she kept her own eyes locked to his. “Yes. Things need to be done. This is the only way.”

“You are certain it is not just the next step in your constant search for more knowledge? More power…” his voice still kept the same firm insistence. 

Hermione allowed the frown to tuck on her brows as she contemplated his question. “Maybe it is, yet it still is the only way to get things right as well.”

Finally, the man sighed and waved his hand to the visitor chair next to which she stood, Hermione didn’t waste the invitation and promptly sat down while waiting on his next words. 

“Hermione… we are very fond of you and would hate to lose you. You do realise this path will be littered with danger and consequence? Nothing is without a price  _ moyata dushterya. _ ” 

Her silence and affirmative nod was apparently enough response. With a firm nod of his own, he then stood up and walked to a dark cabinet that was obviously locked with blood wards. She watched in fascination as he sliced his pinky with his wand and pressed the digit to the handle, the small smear of blood disappeared almost instantly into the brass after which the cabinet gave a quiet click and swung open. It was the first time she actually ever witnessed a blood ward being used. 

Father Krum inspected inside before stepping into the cupboard. Hermione stretched to glance inside, not surprised to see what seemed to be an entire shelved room inside the small cupboard - undetectable extension charms she surmised. Inside she could make out rows upon rows of books as well as multitudes of various objects. She figured it most likely were all dark items.

Eventually, he came out with three ancient and heavy looking tomes. Father Krum then placed them one by one next to each other in front of her on his desk. She noted there were no names on the leather covers. “I got these in English for you. These predate  _ Secrets of the Darkest Art _ … the parent scripts if you will, from which Owle Bullock actually compiled Secrets and even more extensive in information and instruction. Very few copies are still in existence and only exists in a few of the oldest families. I prefer to keep them close on hand. They were translated to English in the 13th century when  _ Secrets of the Darkest Art  _ was published. So it is old English, you might spend more time translating than reading… but it is where you must start.” 

Hermione met his eyes as he spoke. Realising the priceless worth of the manuscripts and the trust he was showing her in lending them for her perusal. “Thank you, father Valko… this is more than I could ever have hoped for… I won't have trouble with the old English as I am used to it from manuscripts… I will guard them preciously, I promise.” 

The middle-aged wizard nodded at her words, his eyes still boring into her soul. “Do not let them fool you… they might be translated copies, but their power is very real. They will consume you if you do not guard yourself. Occlude when you handle them.”

Hermione nodded quietly as she shifted her eyes back to the three manuscripts. Suddenly acutely aware of a thrumming power radiating off them, calling her. The rest of the room faded away as her hands lifted of their own accord to stroke the worn leather of the first book, she felt something pulse into her skin hypnotically. Hermione shook herself from the spell then and immediately erected the walls of her mind with a frown. She would have to be careful…

***

Her life, her personality, changed drastically after she started her dive into the dark arts. She spent two years with the three manuscripts in the Krum family castle. In Between Valko tutored her along with travelling a few times to Durmstrang and other Masters where she would spend more time under the tutelage of the Dark Arts professor as well as other faculty. She learned about dark potions and even how simple charms could be turned foul for insidious purposes. She learned more than anyone wizard or witch had sought in her time. She learned  _ everything _ . And the more she learned the more she wanted to learn. She felt the dark magic seeping into her with each tome and each curse, and yet she craved more. It was like a drug… once was never enough. It pulsed through her body as it nestled into each nerve and cell, it became as necessary as the blood in her veins. Hermione couldn’t imagine a time when dark magic wasn’t a part of her anymore and had no interest to either.

Finally, she knew the second goal in her new life plan was achievable which was what led to her leaving eastern Europe to return home. Only no one would know she was back.

*** 

It was quite easy blending in those few weeks in the wizarding Society of London with her cloaks and simple glamours. It was even easier with barely a few Galleons switching hands in the dark corners of Knockturn Alley to get a name and place and a sealed envelope.

Sitting at the place - a shady pub off Diagon Alley - she saw the name as he downed one firewhiskey after the other at the little table in the corner. She had to wait till he was drunk enough to have hazy vision and subsequent hazy memories. Finally, Hermione deemed the wizard sloshed thoroughly and approached him. Sliding into the seat opposite him she regarded him as his watery hazel eyes narrowed unfocused on her. 

“A pretty lass for me-“ a hiccup broke him off as he grinned at her.

Hermione smiled at him as she leaned forward while she muttered a few charms with her wand under the table. Mostly a muffliato and notice me not. She then removed her other hand from the folds of her cloak and placed a photograph in front of him. It showed the same wizard copulating with a witch against a dark alley wall. The witchs’ face was illuminated enough to show it was not his wife. “Your wife should want to see this… I hear she is remarkably adept with her wand… and has quite a temper… not to mention, the holder of your fortune.” 

Her eyes didn’t leave his face as she saw his grin fading and his mouth pale. Even his brown hair seemed to wilt along with his entire bearing. “Wha do you want.”

Hermione smiled at him. “Merely information.”

He nodded blearily at her, “Alright, but obliviate me afterwards.”

“Of course. It’s why I waited for you to get sloshed first.” 

The wizard nodded in resignation as Hermione still smiled in satisfaction.

***

A week later Hermione had a similar meeting with another wizard after some more Galleons exchanging hands in Knockturn earlier that week. Only this time it didn't end with an obliviate immediately… 

The drunken obliviate only came days later when the same wizard inconspicuously handed her three vials containing a suspicious red liquid. She asked him no questions on the how, and he never volunteered.

*** 

In the end, it was easier than she thought it would be. Ancient and unknown dark magic gave her tools in her arsenal that modern wizardry would never have been able to preempt. Although she knew she was far from knowing everything… she had only exhausted eastern European knowledge so far. Still a lot of other regions left with their own ancient history and knowledge. But first things first. 

And that was how Hermione found herself in a little rickety spelled rowboat in the stormy northern seas. The boat cut over the water till she saw the simmers of the perimeter wards of Azkaban. Stopping right next to it Hermione then proceeded to start the ritual. It took her three hours. 

Three hours of chanting and weaving her wand as well as offering her blood along with the blood in the three vials in exchange for various different layers before the small break finally appeared. Barely big enough for her and her little boat to slip through. She had literally and forcibly keyed herself into the wards temporarily. Something no one has done in centuries she was certain of. You see, Azkaban wards were unbreakable… so she couldn’t even attempt that nevermind that it would trigger every alarm the moment she even tried. But to key herself in… without the Minister of Magic and Heads of the DMLE and DOM… well that was quite a wonderful feat as the three had to jointly key and maintain all Azkaban wards. Having their blood helped naturally. 

After that it was easy. 

She knew where the Dementors were stationed at that time - it was visiting hours - and the guard patrol schedules. And as she was keyed to Azkaban she could now freely use magic inside the perimeter. A Disillusionment charm was so simple she almost laughed as she rowed to the shore and basically walked to right below Draco’s cell window. He was only on the fourth floor due to being a low-risk prisoner so a simple levitation and then a  _ Silencio _ and  _ notice me not _ with a  _ bombardia _ at his window quietly blasted an opening for him. Hermione stunned him instantly when her feet touched his floor, not wanting to waste time explaining or risking exposure should he struggle against her. With a few swipes of her wand she then managed to deactivate the trigger wards on his person. She then levitated them both down after dowsing him with  _ disillusionment _ as well. She had them rowed out in under an hour since she went through the wards. Once through she had to spend another hour once again removing herself from the wards while making sure no trace remained for them to figure out what happened. Or who for that matter. Luckily the removal process was easier. 

Draco was still stunned as she reached the muggle fisherman boat waiting for her a decent distance away. The men helped her abroad while lifting the seemingly unconscious man onboard as well. They didn't ask questions as she had them under the Imperius for this very reason.

After reaching the harbour hours later Hermione waited for them to disembark before unobtrusively removing the curse from the men from behind as they offloaded their haul along with obliviating their memories of her and Draco. Then she grabbed the still stunned Draco’s hand and disapparated with a quiet pop to get to their unregistered portkey. 

***

Hermione didn’t return to the Krums, she had said goodbye to her surrogate family when she left for England already. Instead, she took Draco to the place she had been quietly preparing for herself somewhere in Siberia, Russia. She grinned to herself, some would say it was her lair.

It really was not much more than a cave in the cold mountains that she had found that had already been lined out with rock walls and floors and even rooms. Even the entrance was built up with the moss-covered rocks and fitted with an ancient heavy wooden door. She had no idea who the abode had belonged to and how many hundred years prior, but she knew it was abandoned and very far from the nearest civilization. Magic made it quite comfortable and warm.

Hermione had levitated the still stunned Draco Malfoy to a room at the back that she had prepared for him and left him on the bed. At the door, she lifted the hex and quickly closed and locked his door. Not ready to face him yet. She would unlock his door later and let him find her. 

***

It was a couple of hours later that she returned to his room. A bowl of broth and bread on a tray was floating along behind her as she entered. She saw Draco sitting up immediately with a weak glare at her when he heard the lock turn and smiled at him in satisfaction. 

The tray came to rest on his bedside table and without a word, he started eating. At first, it was done slow and sluggish, but as the rich broth filled him his movements became more steady. Hermione had sat herself down in the armchair in his room and watched him eat, he’d be on soups and soft stews for a few days till his constitution strengthened. 

Finally, as he finished off the last he sat back to lock his eyes on her. “You stopped visiting me.”

Hermione blinked. Of all the opening words she imagined from him, she had not thought he’d say that. Almost like a petulant child.

“Well, I couldn't really make my presence known… In case you missed it, I was working on my mysteriously disappearing act. You got the papers.”

Draco smiled weakly then, and she could have sworn she saw a little twinkle in his eyes. “And now you are working on the ‘breaking prisoners out of Azkaban’ act?”

“Obviously. I got only you out. Don’t know any other sane potentially good dark wizards now, do I?”

“Good dark wizards? Meaning?” His eyebrow rose with his enquiry.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Meaning, dark wizards that are not actually evil. Or insane, for that matter.”

Draco frowned slightly and then responded in his still raspy voice. “Rabastan Lestrange. My Father, Theodosius Nott Sr, and Jr. Basilius Avery. They are dark but not actually full-blown aunty Bellatrix or Antonin Dolohov evil or insane.”

Hermione gave him a smile of thanks, noting the list of names to her memory. Maybe she could get them when they are needed.

  
  


***

Draco’s recovery took a few weeks. They did not talk much as it wasn't as if they were friends or anything. He had been a project for her in which she had failed. Which was why she would visit him in Azkaban, some form of guilt for her failure. And now, now he was a tool.

But was he really?

Maybe she just didn't want to be alone… Maybe she had some primitive need for partnership. Some primitive survival mechanism that urged not to be alone? And Draco fascinated her. There was a certain pull, something that had always been there. Maybe because he was the perfect embodiment of a prejudiced pureblood? And she wanted to therefore prove him wrong as the quintessential muggleborn? Maybe it was the excitement of their rivalry in school? Or merely the guilt of having failed to save him from Azkaban? Maybe it was as simple as that she sensed the same conflict, the same darkness in him as she had. Not evil, but not purely light either. Whichever it was, he was the only one she could imagine with her on this journey. So, she went and got him for herself.

Those were thoughts that went around in her head in the weeks following his breakout. She would watch him with narrowed eyes as he moved around in her abode, seeing as he slowly strengthened. As colour came back to his naturally pale skin. As his eyes became more clear. The slump in his shoulders was the last to dissipate about three months after his arrival.

The morning she came from her room to see him standing tall with his chin jutted, she smiled. He was back.

So with her own smirk, she twirled her wand as her eyes met his. “Ready to learn more than you ever thought you would, Malfoy?”

He scoffed at her, but she saw the glint in his eyes. “I need a wand.”

***

Obviously, father Krum assisted them in obtaining a wand for Draco. As there weren't any reputable wandmakers left in Europe besides Olivanders, they had to arrange a nighttime visit from Garrick Olivander at the Krum estates. Luckily the old wandmaker had a ‘ask no questions’ policy much to their favour.

Draco was surprised at first to meet the entire Krum family. And to realise that Hermione had been staying with them and was under father Valko Krum’s personal tutelage and patronage - she was their adopted daughter. He was a very well known wizard in Eastern Europe for his knowledge in dark arts and charms. He was also the inventor of quite a few everyday day charms as well as a popular defence spell. His position in Bulgaria’s Ministry’s Law department also afforded him inside intelligence and much political sway due to his very old family lineage. 

All in all, the Krum family was to Bulgaria as the Malfoy family had been to England.

Hermione liked to watch the aristocratic interactions between the Krums and Draco. It was quite amusing to her all the formal bows and hand-kissing and talking between the lines. She rolled her eyes at that and tended to interrupt them by saying it straight. Father Krum, as well as mother Zornista Krum, loved her for that, they claimed to find it just as refreshing as Victor found it. Victor and his wife were also present that weekend, causing Draco to act very strangely. He would constantly be next to her and even hold a hand on her lower back when they were walking.

All the while giving silent glares at Victor’s back.

Hermione smirked at that. She was no idiot. She knew he somehow felt threatened by Victor, even with Victor’s wife and son being present and the two obviously quite happily married. She just needed to think a bit on exactly why Draco felt threatened. It wasn't as if she and Draco had any romantic involvement… mutual dependency perhaps, but not romance.

Leaving the Krum estate that Sunday, brought a sense of obvious relief to Draco as they returned to the secret hideaway back in the mountains of Siberia. She watched with amusement as he frivolously used his wand for days afterwards with open excitement at the feel of magic again. 

It was later in the week after their return that Draco looked at her from where they both were perusing old text on Bondings, and he with a certain fervour to his voice and intensity in his eyes thanked her.

“Thank you, Granger. For getting me out. For getting me my magic back. I am ready to learn whatever you have to teach. And to follow you wherever it is you plan to go.”

Hermione kept her eyes locked to his, a small smile on her mouth. “Not follow. Next to me. Partners, that is what we are. We are mutually dependent, after all. And we have much to accomplish before we can change wizarding Britain.”

  
  



End file.
